One Year Later
by Suki59
Summary: Takes place a year after Eric's Story. If you haven't done so, please read my other stories Thoughts in the Night, Taking Action, and Eric's Story before starting One Year Later. Number 4 in my vamp series. Pam's Take on Things is next.
1. Chapter 1

Charlaine Harris owns this whole world.

A/N: This is the fourth story in my series. Please enjoy Thoughts in the Night, Taking, Action, and Eric's Story before starting One Year Later. Thanks and enjoy!

It's been exactly one year since Eric bought me the beach house at Pawley's Island. I remember the date escrow closed as if it were my own birthday. A girl like me doesn't often receive real estate as a gift, so we tend to not forget those things. Eric and I went out to celebrate in Shreveport that night, and that memory is one of my favorites. I replay it often in my mind. I now have a name for that activity. I call it playing my Eric tapes, and yes, I am aware that I wear my Crazy Sookie Stackhouse smile when I play them. People will just have to get over that. I do what I need to do to get by just like anybody else.

Eric took me to a very fancy dinner and I wore one of my beach dresses from Tara's shop. Eric wore a linen suit with a light blue shirt and looked good enough to eat (which I did later, by the way). After dinner, he drove us back to his house and I kept saying that I wanted to go back to Bon Temps. I wanted to stay at home because I had to work the next day, but Eric insisted that we drive to his house. I had stayed with him there a few times by then, but wasn't really what you'd call comfortable there. It was just so huge and there were often human employees there during the day which made me feel weird. I had never had a housekeeper or a gardener even, and felt awkward with people around who worked for Eric. But I have to admit that on that particular night, I was grateful for those people because they had gone out of their way to make the night very special for me.

Eric led me through the front door and the living room to the doors that led out to the gardens and the pool area. He watched my face as my eyes went wide and then began to tear up when I saw that most of the yard had been covered with sand and in the center of it a blanket was spread out with a picnic basket and an ice bucket on it. We kicked off our shoes and went to sit on the blanket. Eric opened the champagne and poured me a glass. Then he reached into the basket and retrieved a wrapped gift and said "Happy housewarming, lover." Inside the beautifully wrapped box was a small jewelry box that was an exact replica of the beach house. I opened the lid (well, the roof, actually), and instead of playing music, the sound of waves came from the small box. I said, "Thank you, Eric. I love it." And I loved the huge smile that came across his beautiful face. We left the jewelry box open and made love to the sounds of the waves and afterwards whispered to each other how much we missed the beach and all that had happened to us there. Then I sipped the champagne (Eric had enjoyed a small taste from his favorite spot on my inner thigh), and I started leisurely examining my little beach house replica. I opened the little drawers that were lined with pale blue velvet, and when I opened the bottom one, the tears started again when I saw the ring. It looked to me like a wedding band with tiny diamonds all around it, but when I looked up at Eric, he quickly said, "It's not a wedding ring or even an engagement ring. I know you're not ready, lover. I don't want to pressure you. I just wanted to commemorate the day with something special. I thought that maybe I could persuade you to wear it on your right hand. I promise I'll leave the left hand ring-free until you're ready." He sure was getting better at handling me. Honestly, how could anyone say no to that? He slipped the ring on my right ring finger and told me he loved me, kissing the ring and then he caught my lips in a perfect kiss. Life was perfect at that moment.

That's a tape I play a lot. I try not to play it in public too much though because it usually makes me cry. Thinking of it now, I kiss the ring myself and watch as the light plays across the diamonds.

Of course now I think of what a fool I was then. I should have said, "Don't be silly, Eric. You can give me a wedding band, an engagement ring, an island full of beach houses. Whatever you want to give me, I'll gladly accept from you." Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it?

So here I sit one year from that night--the night I got a beach house, and then a tiny replica of one with a diamond ring in it while sipping champagne with my love on a sandy beach in his back yard. Tonight, I am packing my suitcase, getting ready to fly back to Myrtle Beach tomorrow. Very soon I'll be at the house on Pawley's again, going from room to room, making sure I pack up anything personal before I put it on the market to sell. If you told me a year ago that I would be doing this, I would have called you crazy.

Last week when I decided to sell the beach house, I was swinging on my hammock on my front porch, playing a favorite Eric tape in my head (I think it was one of the ones where we made love on the beach in the rain). Eric had been right about the rental income. That's initially what allowed me to quit working for Sam. In those first few months, we had a few lease agreements to let people rent the house that were in place before we bought it. Then Pam went down for a week. I know she took a human with her, but I never asked who she was. I figured that who Pam vacationed with was none of my business. I was just so happy that she enjoyed the house. While she was gone, Victor was in town, and I didn't see Eric. He wanted Victor to know as little as possible about our relationship, which was fine with me. Victor gave me the creeps. I knew never to trust him since the night of the takeover when he lied so easily to all of us.

After Pam's vacation, I told all my friends as well as Jason that they could use the house whenever they wanted, and I was pretty certain that I wasn't interested in renting it out to strangers anymore. But then later, I changed my mind, of course. I realized that I needed to be practical and that I needed the money. Eric taught me to be practical, if nothing else, after all. Then no one ever mentioned vacationing at the house to me again. Honestly, who would have had the nerve? I told the realtor to rent it out as much as he could and just send me the checks. I certainly had no interest in ever going there myself ever again. And then, of course, later it became evident that I wouldn't need the rental income any more, and that's when I decided that I might as well just sell it. The thought of seeing it one last time was painful, but I hoped that maybe it would be cathartic as well. (Cathartic was yesterday's word of the day. How timely.)

Maybe seeing the house, walking the beach will help me say a final goodbye to that silly fairy tale I was hoping for. Has it really only been a year? It seems like a lifetime ago. I called the realtor to make sure that the house wasn't rented, and he said that he actually did have it rented, but that the family had cancelled at the last minute because The Gray Man had been seen on the beach warning of a storm. We laughed at this on the phone, but knew that the locals and the regular renters took those ghost sightings very seriously. They were always reported in the local paper, I assumed tongue in cheek, but people seemed to really believe that the sightings meant a storm was coming. Being a little more practical (thank you, Eric), however, I checked yahoo weather and saw that no storm was predicted, and booked my flight, grateful that the house would be empty and I could go before I chickened out.

I called Bill to let him know that I would be out of town, and he promised to keep an eye on the house while I was away. I told him not to scare Amelia or Octavia, and to try and be subtle. He and I seem to have finally come to some sort of comfortable friendship. I value him as a neighbor and a friend, of course, and I was always grateful to know that he would protect me. Actually, he says he would give his life to protect me, and I believe him. I know that he loves me, and I love him as well. It was only a month or so ago that we tried to rekindle that old flame. I let him kiss me one night, and I won't lie, it was a great kiss. It brought back so many memories of when I was first with Bill and how wonderful he was to me (before all the you-know-what hit the fan). Maybe I was trying to recreate that simpler time, those feelings. And, being the practical one that I am now, I figured that being with a man who really did seem to love me and would lay down his life for me wasn't such a crazy notion. But the next night, when he came over and leaned in for another kiss, I just started crying and said, "I just can't, Bill. I'm so sorry." He rocked me in his arms, and said, "It's okay," over and over. If anyone could understand my Crazy Sookie behavior, I guess it would be Bill. After all, he was there that night, here in this house with me. He knows what I went through the night Eric finally died.


	2. Chapter 2

As I was packing, I decided to call Pam and check in with her. As much as I love Pam, I still find it so hard to see her and talk to her. She's Eric's child, after all, and that fact never leaves my mind when I'm around her. She has sworn to protect me just as Bill has, and I will always value that. Now that Fangtasia is hers, I can't go there, of course. I wonder if it's hard for her, or if centuries of hardening her heart have made it easier. I've only had nine months to work on that, and I am failing miserably, I'm afraid. I told her that I was going to the beach to clean out the house and put it on the market. She asked if I was certain that that's what I wanted, and I said yes. She offered again to give me Eric's Shreveport house, but I told her that no, he left that to her, and I really hoped that she would live in it. It really is such a beautiful house, but I could never live there. I can't imagine ever even driving past it. Way too painful.

Eric was smart to put the beach house in my name (naturally--you don't live a thousand years unless you're very smart). Even though he did leave me a very wealthy woman, it has taken months to get through all the red tape, just as Eric predicted it would. He left the bar and his house in Shreveport and a load of cash to Pam. I am now the proud owner of fourteen commercial properties in Shreveport and New Orleans as well as forty-two million dollars. I had no idea that Eric had such wealth. That night at the beach when he told me he had set up a trust for me, I envisioned some sort of account set up to provide me with a small income so I wouldn't have to worry. When he said I wouldn't have to worry, he wasn't kidding. But until a few weeks ago, I didn't have access to all that money, and the rental income from the beach house is what has gotten me by. I wasn't able to work anyway, I was such a wreck, so I honestly don't know what I would have done for money if it weren't for the beach house. That Eric, so practical.

Right after Eric's death, Pam brought me two personal items that she thought I might want. One was the framed photo of me beside my sandcastle and the other was the letter I wrote to him asking that I be turned if I accidentally died. As I re-read that letter, I thought how naïve and self-centered I was at that time. I was so involved in my own decision, that I never even considered the possibility that I would out-live Eric. And when he told me that he had set up a trust for me, I was so busy balancing that giant immature chip on my shoulder, so ridiculously lost in the idea of being a kept woman, I didn't even see the hard cold reality that I could actually lose Eric. He just seemed so invincible to me. He was my savior, and yet when he needed saving, there was no one there for him. The image of his last moments before death haunts me. Was he afraid? Did he know that he was dying? It's hard for me to think about. I'm much happier playing another Eric tape in my head. Because I have many more happy memories than I do sad ones.

Those three months back here after the beach were for the most part happy. Eric was so good to me. We saw each other as much as we could even though we were both pretty busy with our lives. Fangtasia looked great when they had the big grand re-opening. I went there on my nights off and stayed over at Eric's. When I worked late, Eric came to my house. He had one of the upstairs bedrooms converted to a light-tight room, and that's where he stayed during the days he was here, locked up nice and tight. The week Pam was at the beach and Victor was in town, he stayed away and I missed him terribly, but I understood why he did. Other than that week, though, our lives had settled into a somewhat normal routine.

Eric wanted me to move into his house, but I just couldn't see living there with him. Now, of course, I kick myself, and realize that I should have moved in the first day back from the beach. Fool that I am, I thought I had all the time in the world to make up my mind. I wanted to take it slow. Let's not talk about living together. Let's not talk about the future. Let's not talk about the beach house and living there. Fool.

After Eric's death, people treated me differently. Sam told me that he respected Eric and was glad that we had at least had some time together. Jason told me he loved me. About six months after Eric's death, Alcide called and asked me out. I was pretty surprised, and I surprised myself even more by saying yes. I have always liked Alcide, and thought that being around him might make me feel normal again. My new practical side knew that I should date again. I'm still a very young woman, too young to feel like a widow. Practical or not, the night Alcide was picking me up, I was so nervous that I drank three gin and tonics on an empty stomach, and when I answered the door, I just threw up on his shoes. Then I decided that I wasn't ready to date. The biggest surprise I think was Quinn. He called within a few days of Eric's death and gave very polite condolences. That was followed by a sweet and heartfelt note asking if we could be friends. Now we talk on the phone every week or so, and he always asks if I need anything, and he has never made any kind of remark that could be construed as a pass. And, of course, you already know about Bill. Dear sweet Bill. Great kisser, but I just can't go there anymore. I think he finally understands.

I know you're curious about how Eric died, and I do want to tell you. I really do. It's just so hard to remember that night and to talk about it. But you've been so patient with me, and deserve the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

I had worked the early dinner shift at Merlotte's and was at home alone that night. Eric was working at Fangtasia, and I was expecting him at around three. At about midnight, I decided to take a little nap on the sofa when there was a knock at the door. A very agitated Bill came into the room and asked where my roommates were. Amelia was over at Tray's and Octavia was away visiting relatives in Arkansas. I could see that Bill was concerned, but he wouldn't tell me at first what was going on. He kept checking his phone and pacing until I finally grabbed him and said, "Bill. What is it? I need to know."

"There's been another takeover."

I hate vampire politics. "What's happened? Where's Eric?"

"I don't know. I got a call from Pam earlier. Felipe DeCastro and Sandy Sechrest are both dead. There was some sort of uprising in Nevada that had nothing to do with our state, but naturally, we are affected. As soon as word was out, there was a jostling for power. It seems that Victor Madden is poised to take Louisiana."

I kept watching the back door, waiting for the knock that I expected from Eric, just like last time. I knew he would come to ensure my safety.

"Where was Pam when she called?"

"At Fangtasia."

"And Eric."

"We haven't heard from him. Pam said he was at home, but she hasn't been able to reach him. Other vampires in our area have checked in, but the other Louisiana sheriffs have not."

"Well, he'll be here. It's just like last time. Nothing will happen to him. He's too valuable. He'll swear fealty to Victor and we'll just move on, right?"

"I don't know, Sookie."

We waited there for hours. Bill kept texting Pam. Her response was the same every time. No change. Finally, just before dawn, Pam called and Bill stepped out onto the front porch to take the call. I knew when he came back into the room that Eric was gone. I sat on the couch and heard a woman wailing somewhere outside and realized that that was me. Bill was holding me and saying, "I'm so sorry."

When Bill had to leave moments later, I kept clinging to him saying, "Take me with you." I ran after him down the steps and through the cemetery, but he was too fast, of course. I knelt on the ground and cried as the sun rose, wondering how I would get through this day and every other day that follows without Eric.

The following night, Bill found me in a fetal position on my sofa and called Pam. They got me to drink some soup and water and tucked me into bed. I heard Pam on the phone asking Amelia to please come home. The next week or so was kind of a blur. I found out that Clancy was the new sheriff of area five and one of the few Louisiana vampires to hold such a position. The other area sheriffs were all vamps loyal to Victor and I assumed from Nevada. Pam swore fealty to both Clancy and Victor. I couldn't blame her, of course. She had to get on with her life, and Eric would have done the same in her shoes. Technically, I suppose, I am in Victor's retinue and am still holding my breath, hoping he never calls on me to work for him. I honestly don't know if I could do it, but also don't know how I could refuse without threatening my own life.

At first, the idea of losing my life didn't bother me one little bit. I would have told Victor Madden and even Clancy to kiss my telepathic behind if they called me to work for them. But then I thought of Hunter, and the life he has ahead of him. And he is the only reason I was able to move forward for a very long time. I knew that he would need my help, advice, protection. My new practical self decided to get through this for Hunter's sake. I now also have a will that will ensure his security when it's my time to join Eric.

Flying into Myrtle Beach, I looked out the window and watched the beauty of the twinkling lights. I remembered the last time I saw those, and the tears started to fall. This is going to be a tough trip.


	4. Chapter 4

I pulled into the drive of the beach house and trudged up the steps just as the sun was coming up. I walked out the back door and caught the sun rising over the ocean and my breath caught in my throat at the sheer beauty of it. I felt lucky then that I could witness such beauty. Eric spent many years unable to see such a sight, and I felt like it was my duty to appreciate sunrises and sunsets and life in general in his honor now. I'd continue on for the both of us. I sat on the beach until I got too cold, and went up to shower and crawl into bed. As I fell asleep, I wondered at how strongly I felt Eric's presence in this house and knew that this would be a painful time for me. I woke after a few hours because I was so hungry, so I dressed and went to the grocery. After making and eating my omelet, I called the realtor and told him that I was here and would like to meet with him in a few days to discuss listing the house. I wanted a little time to myself to say goodbye to the house, to the beach, to Eric again. The realtor and I had a laugh at the perfect weather in spite of yet another Gray Man sighting the night before. I went out in my bikini and sat in the sand all day enjoying that perfect weather, thank you, Gray Man be damned.

At the end of the day, I was exhausted from the lack of sleep, being in the sun, and crying most of the day. I went inside, ate a salad and showered and then cried myself to sleep in the hammock. The sound of the waves was so soothing. The balmy breeze was a perfect temperature. Eric had the right idea when he said we should live here. I was drifting in and out of sleep and dreaming of Eric. His hands were gently rocking the hammock. I could sense he was watching over me. I could feel him in the bond again. I had this dream a lot, and I guess it was my little brain's way of comforting me. I felt his hand brushing the hair from my face, and I instinctively reached up to touch his hand. And I touched his hand. I touched Eric's hand. His voice broke through my dream and I heard him say, "What took you so long, lover?" My eyes flew open, and there he was. Suddenly I was crying and he was holding me and we were kissing, and I just kept thinking this can't be real, but yet here he is. I must be finally losing my mind, but no, here he is.

For nine months, Eric had been hiding on Pawley's Island. When he could, he would stay in the house, but if there were renters in it, he would bury himself in the sand where the sea oats grow between the beach and the houses. He glamored the renters to keep True Blood in the house. Sometimes he would appear on the beach as The Gray Man as he did last week to keep the house free for me. He knew of course, that it has been one year since we bought the house, and he hoped that that occasion would bring me back here. He knew it was too dangerous to risk going back to Louisiana or contacting me or Pam, so he waited. He always said that a thousand years on the earth taught him patience and he wasn't kidding.

We made love in the hammock, on the sofa, in the bed. I cried a lot, but for the first time in a very long time, they were happy tears. I don't know what we're going to do. I don't really care what we do. All I know is that I have a second chance, yet another fresh start with Eric, and I'm going to take it and run with it and never look back. Wish us luck.


	5. Chapter 5

Eric and I just celebrated our one-year anniversary of living at the beach. After I discovered that Eric was still alive (well, you know what I mean—still around), I called everyone back in Bon Temps and told them that I would be staying at Pawley's for awhile. I said that I needed some time to heal and that I had decided to keep the house and use it. I told the realtor that I wasn't selling after all and to return the deposits of the renters he had scheduled. I said to tell them that there had been a death in the family (which is technically true, but it was a thousand years ago), and if anybody objected further, then I would gladly send them a check to go towards renting another house on the island. But I'm staying.

Amelia packed and sent a box for me at my request. I have my jewelry box and framed sandcastle photo and Eric's letter as well as some family photos that were framed on the walls in the house, and several of my favorite beach dresses and bikinis. People keep asking when I'm coming home, and I keep saying that I am home now. They worry that I'm all alone here, but I tell them that I have made lots of friends and have a full life here. I see that I'm probably going to have to make up a new boyfriend eventually. That should shut them up for awhile. Once Amelia suggested that she come to see me, but I told her that I was having renovations done on the house and I'd let her know when they were finished. I suppose I can just keep stalling. I guess if worse came to worse, Eric could just sleep in the sand for a week or so. I could just lock his things in the light tight room and nobody would know.

I stay in touch with Bill and Pam, of course, and told them both that since the shock of Eric's death, my telepathic abilities have faltered and not returned. I doubt if either one of them believes me, but they are astute enough to pass that information along to their new regime, rendering me useless to them.

Eric says that Pam knows he is alive. At first I didn't believe him because I felt certain that she would have given it away to me somehow and I was positive that she believed him to be gone. But he says that as maker and child they are bound as well, and she is of course not as inexperienced as I am in reading the bond and would absolutely feel it were he to finally die. I wondered how she could have watched me suffer and grieve without telling me that he still lived, and he said that although he was certain that it pained her greatly to see me grieve, that no amount of pain or even torture could convince her to admit to another soul what she knew in her heart. As his child, she would take that knowledge to her final grave before giving Eric's secret up. She knew that when Eric left the stake and ashes in his bed that he wished for others to believe he was dead, and she would protect him at any cost. I am learning that vampires are so much stronger than humans on many levels.

You'd think that Eric and I would get bored here eventually, but we haven't at all. This is our paradise and we're so happy here together. I don't usually wake until the afternoon, and then spend time enjoying the beach of course. Eric and I spend most of the night together, but then when I conk out, Eric writes on his laptop or just walks the beach. We spent a lot of our time building a little workshop under the house beside the storage room where we keep the beach chairs. I started making furniture out of driftwood down there and I've sold a few pieces at the local shops. I love it and it's a perfect way to pass the afternoons on rainy or chilly days. Some days I even forego the beach if I wake to read in my daily note from Eric that he found a new piece of driftwood and it's waiting for me in the workshop. Eric has such a talent for writing and has written several books and we've already gotten the first one published. We used the pseudonym Charlaine Harris and I submitted one of my old photos of a young Gran to the publisher to use on the book jacket. After a thousand years of studying women, Eric really knows how to get inside their heads, and his writing reflects that. The first book, Dead Until Dark, has done really well, and he has a huge readership--mostly women, of course.

After spending so much time together here, I have finally learned how to read the bond. I realize now that I could still feel Eric strongly in those first couple of days when I thought he was really gone, but I was so overwhelmed with grief that I didn't recognize the feelings. And they gradually diminished (probably as he was traveling away from Bon Temps). Pam asked me once weeks later if I felt anything, and I said that I always kind of felt like he was with me, but that I've heard people say that after losing a loved one, so I thought it was normal. I'd never been bonded to a vampire before, of course, so I didn't have anything to compare it to, but now I can see that what I was feeling was his life force still with me. And, of course, it was much stronger when I came to the beach house, but I just assumed that was because the house held so many memories for me.

In the delicate beginnings of our relationship, Eric avoided discussing the bond with me and rightly so. He knew how skittish I was and feared that had I known how tightly we were really bound, that I would have freaked out. It's funny how suffering the loss of your true love will force a person to grow up real fast. Now I treasure the bond and Eric has taught me how to embrace and use it to express my feelings for him and receive his feelings as well. It's hard for me to remember now the jumbled confused feelings that the bond was to me before I learned to cherish and control it.

Eric was so torn about leaving me in my grief for so long and has asked my forgiveness many times, but I tell him that there is nothing to forgive. He did what he had to do to stay alive (well, you know what I mean, to stay on the earth). Most humans or even younger vampires would have been tempted to make contact and risked their lives further, but Eric knows how to survive. I'm grateful that he stayed away and didn't risk ultimate death just to comfort me. I would have endured a lifetime of grief if it meant that he survived. I only wish I had been stronger and come to the beach house sooner. I avoided it because I feared the pain, and as a result prolonged my own grief and Eric's unnecessarily.

I don't know how long we'll be here like this. There could always be a regime change in Louisiana again, and Eric may be able to go back someday. Who knows. Or we might just stay here and walk the beach together every night. We love our perfect life here. I still have the sun and I have Eric. We love it when it rains. We always make love on the beach and think about those first weeks here together. We know how lucky we are to have another chance at happiness and we never take another day together for granted. Never, never.


	6. Chapter 6

Eric

I suppose you want to know what has happened to me in the past two years, don't you? Well, after Sookie and I returned to Louisiana, I was fairly optimistic about how things started off. She accepted my ring, although I did have to convince her that it really didn't mean anything. (I had become so much better at handling her, I must say.) She allowed me to lightproof one of her spare bedrooms so that I could comfortably stay at her home. She was starting to get more comfortable in my slightly ostentatious house in Shreveport. Fangtasia was back in full swing. Pam enjoyed her beach vacation with her human of the week. The new regime seemed to be stabilizing, and DeCastro was finally learning how to utilize email rather than swooping down into my bar unnecessarily. He asked about Sookie occasionally, but had not called her to work, which I was relieved about.

Just when I thought things were looking fairly normal, the shit hit the fan of course. It started off like any other night. I woke up in my home, expecting to see Sookie at her house after the bar closed. I was getting out of the shower when I heard a voice message being recorded on my home phone. Very few people had my home number. I recognized the voice as a vampire I knew only slightly on a personal level, but she was the sheriff of area 2, and the level of stress in her voice got my attention. She said that there had been another takeover, and that she wanted me to pass along the information to the other sheriffs. Then her voice rose into a high pitched scream before I heard the click. Whoever had just made her scream had also hung up the phone and it wouldn't take long before they realized who she was calling. I remembered all too well that I was the only sheriff in Louisiana to survive the last takeover. I threw on some pants as I heard the cars pulling into the front drive, and launched myself off the balcony and into the trees beyond the pool. I watched as seven vampires that I had never seen before entered the house and ransacked the place. I was grateful that none of my human staff (or gods forbid, Sookie) was there.

When they had left, I returned to my bedroom, retrieved a disposable cell phone from my desk and called the other sheriffs. I left voice mails for each of them, hoping that I may save a life just as mine had just been saved. I said that there had been a takeover, but then added that someone was pulling up into my driveway and I had to go and see who it was. Then I opened my safe, took out the pre-packed briefcase with a few essentials and a lot of cash as well as what I thought of as my emergency exit bag. It contained the ashes of a long-dead vampire that I had staked (I had my reasons at the time, trust me.) as well as a wooden stake. I finished dressing quickly, dumped the ashes and stake onto the still unmade bed, stuffed the plastic bag into my briefcase along with my laptop, and took off flying into the night.

I flew between Sookie's house and Fangtasia several times that night, but waited in the trees or on the rooftops to see what happened. I never saw any vampires approach either place except for Compton at Sookie's, of course. I was glad she wasn't alone, but it was difficult avoiding contacting her. But I knew that she and Pam would both be safer if they had no contact with me. As dawn approached and it seemed that both Pam and Sookie were safe, I went aground in the woods behind Sookie's house.

The following night, I waited in the trees and watched Compton and then later Pam entering Sookie's house. I could feel Sookie's grief and it was so very hard to leave her, but I knew that her safety was more important at that moment, and so I reluctantly flew away.

I found myself at a truck stop by the interstate where I could connect to the internet and read online about the takeover. It's hard to know what was fact and what was rumor, but I assumed that the reports of DeCastro's and Sandy's deaths were accurate. When I read about the placements of the new sheriffs, I knew that I was most likely the only surviving sheriff once again. I was relieved to learn that Clancy was now the sheriff of my area. I knew him to be fair and a friend to Pam, and thought that she would most likely be safe. And I knew that Compton would defend Sookie to his death. She would be heartbroken, but still alive.

I ordered a True Blood to go, glamored a truck driver, and began my journey to South Carolina.


	7. Chapter 7

I took several nights to reach Pawley's Island, taking my time, glamoring different humans to provide me with transport. When I arrived at the house, it seemed to be empty, but I slept in the sand under the sea oats for several weeks before entering the house, just to be sure. I doubted if any vampires other than Pam or Compton knew about the house. It was in Sookie's name, of course, so even if someone were watching my properties, they would most likely omit this one.

I broke into the realtor's office and studied the rental agreements periodically so that I would know when the house would be empty. I bought True Blood at the local convenient stores and drank it cold on the beach until the renters started to come, and then I would glamor them to stock the pantry and use the microwave while they slept. I found great comfort in the familiarity of the house and the beach, and that kept me from losing my mind for the first few months. I missed Sookie terribly, of course, but hoped that she was safe. I felt tremendous guilt because I knew that my supposed final death would wound her terribly, but I also knew that contacting her would greatly risk my life (and possibly hers) and then I would be no good to her really dead. I kept hoping that she would feel me through the bond and come to me, and I wished that I had had that serious and dreaded talk with her about the bond when I'd had the chance.

I lived like that on the beach for nine months, enjoying the comfort of the house when I could. I kept hoping that Sookie would return to the house, but still couldn't risk communicating with her. It sounds miserable, but you have to remember that nine months to a vampire that has lived a thousand years is just the blink of an eye. And the discomfort of sleeping in the sand and drinking synthetic crap from a bottle is nothing after living through years of torture, suffering horrible wounds, and surviving unimaginable grief from the loss of loved ones. We have more patience than any human can comprehend.

I would occasionally grow tired of sleeping in the sand, and I recalled Sookie's ghost stories about the area. I would sometimes pose as The Gray Man, and I was shocked that it did occasionally work and some renters would leave the house before their vacation was over or even cancel their trip altogether. Selfishly, I would reap the benefits of a warm house and comfortable bed and a working microwave, but then I felt a little guilty because I was taking money from Sookie's pocket literally, and although I knew that I had left her a very wealthy woman, I also knew that it would take some time before she would actually benefit from her inheritance.

I was more than mildly troubled at the thought of Sookie moving on with her life without me. I hated the thought of her grieving over me of course, and hoped that she could find her way back to her happy self. She is a very strong woman, stronger than she even realizes. Her strength and courage were partially why she initially intrigued me before I fell in love with her. I was aware that it was most likely that she would start to date as time passed on. She is a beautiful young woman, and I'd noted heads turning whenever we were in public. I also knew that she had a string of regular suitors at home. Yes, I am jealous and yes, I am possessive, but I knew that no matter what happened, what mattered most was that she survived. Whatever else occurred, I could suffer as long as the result was her safety and our eventual reunion. I'd be lying if I said I was really worried that she would fall in love with any man more than she loved me. As much as the thought of Sookie with other men enraged me, I was also aware of the fact that those very suitors would keep her safe from harm. Compton would protect her at any cost, and during the day I knew that the shifter as well as others would keep her safe. She was never really aware of how closely she was watched and protected, but I certainly was, and that was one thing that gave me some comfort on those long frustrating nights without her. And of course, I knew that Pam would watch over her. I don't like to brag, but my child is as close to perfect as a child can get.

I knew that the anniversary of our home purchase was approaching, and I also knew that the house would be rented during that week. I made several Gray Man appearances, and luckily, they worked, and the house was empty. I waited in the house every night, hoping for Sookie's return, but went to my room disappointed at dawn every day. Then on that last night, I felt her coming nearer, but knew that I was losing my race with the sun. You can't imagine the frustration of feeling dawn approaching just as I could feel her near to me. When I woke that night, I sat up and felt that sleepy hum and I nearly cried from the joy of it. I flew downstairs and there she lay in the hammock, sleeping like an angel. I rocked her gently, touched her hair, and when I felt her stir, I asked what took her so long. Her beautiful blue eyes opened and filled with tears as she reached for me. I crushed her to me, smothered her with kisses, told her I loved her over and over. After nine months of celibacy and synthetic blood, I don't have to tell you how passionate that reunion was. I couldn't get enough of her and we made love on every piece of horizontal furniture in the house. I tasted her from every soft delicious spot I could sink my fangs into. My beloved had finally returned to me.


	8. Chapter 8

Sookie and I have been living here at the beach for a year now. This is what I had hoped for when we first discovered this house and this beach. I knew that I could stay here and be content. The first nine months without Sookie were tough for both of us of course, but this past year has certainly made up for it. You would think that we would get bored, but we never do. We built a workshop under the house for Sookie when she discovered a love for driftwood and wanted to make tables and such out of it. The first one she made is now our coffee table. The driftwood is the base under a thick piece of glass that showcases the lines of the wood. She has sold several pieces locally, but really does it for the fun of it and not the money. Every morning before I turn in, I scour the beach for Sookie's driftwood, and finding just the right piece is as satisfying as finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I take the wood back to her workshop and include the news in her daily note. Then when I wake, I go downstairs to see what she has in mind for our new find.

Sookie is in touch with her friends back in Louisiana and I am able to get a fair amount of information through her conversations with Pam and Compton. I also read on the internet about vamp politics, but that information is not always reliable. I am fairly confident that Victor won't sit on his ill-gained throne for long. He doesn't have the respect of the Louisiana vampires that Sophie-Anne Leclerq had or even that DeCastro had. I predict a short reign. Depending where the pieces land after that catastrophe in the making, I may be able to return to Louisiana someday. I am almost certain that Madden was the one responsible for killing all of the sitting sheriffs during the takeover. I often wonder who took credit for my final death. Did the seven vampire henchmen that I witnessed in my house admit their failure to find me? Right now I honestly don't care about all of that political crap, but I know that it would be easier for Sookie if she didn't have to lie about my existence to all of her friends. There also may come a day when she wants to do some traveling and see the sights beyond our perfect beach, and having a ghost for a companion may put a damper on those plans. It is legal for humans to marry vampires in the state of South Carolina, but of course, I can't have my name on such a legal document while I am staying under the radar. Neither of us is particularly worried about any of these issues right now though. We are both so grateful to just be together that now that is all we need.

After I posted my short story on the fanfiction website, Sookie encouraged me to continue writing, and I will admit that I do find it to be a rewarding pastime. My first book is selling well, and it is very fortunate that we are making money with our first endeavor. The checks go to Charlaine's agent, Sookie Stackhouse (the publisher thought it was so funny that I named my main character after my real life agent.)—that way we can deposit the checks without questions. After my final legal death, my finances were split between Pam and Sookie, of course. Even though she has only half of what I owned before, Sookie and I will never need more money.

When I started writing what looks like will be a series of books, I decided to write a story based on Sookie's interesting and very short young life. Telepaths are quite rare, and I thought that her story would make for interesting reading. When I chose the pseudonym Charlaine Harris, Sookie had the brilliant idea of providing the publisher with a photo of her grandmother as a young woman. Any business done on the phone, Sookie takes care of and speaks for me (as Charlaine Harris, of course). I haven't told Sookie yet, but I chose the name as a tribute to a woman with whom I fell in love in the late 1800's.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a different time for everyone, but especially for our kind. We lived in the shadows, slept in filthy graves, glamored to feed and many of us killed indiscriminately. I was living in Ireland and had recently released Pam to live elsewhere. I knew that she was bored with me and frankly, I was bored as well. I initially used Charlaine as a simple meal and glamored her and sent her home, but there was something about her that I sensed was different. She was beautiful, of course, and had that most unusual name. I almost always selected beautiful women to feed from. I found myself back a second night, and this time I also fucked her, taking her virginity. She was more than willing of course, but for me it was still only a feed and a fuck. That sounds crass, I know, but that's the truth. I found pleasure in her and used her accordingly. That's what I am.

I wandered the countryside, but kept finding my way back to Charlaine's village and continued to feed from her and fuck her when I wanted to. But then something else happened. Every night after I had had my way with her, but before I glamored her, she would tell me stories. I found her to be both beautiful and fascinating. And in the stolen moments we shared before she wandered off with an impaired memory, she seemed to be actually falling in love with me. It was unusual at that time for vampires to take on human companions or even to stay in the same place for any great period of time. But I found myself staying near Charlaine and I fell in love with her as well.

Eventually, I stopped glamoring her and grew to trust her discretion. I was staying in an abandoned and decaying castle near her village and she would often come and stay there with me. When she would return home after one of those stays, I would follow her and glamour her parents so that they wouldn't realize that she had even been missing. This went on for years until it became apparent that she was attracting human suitors and would be expected to marry. With her consent, I spilled her blood in the family's stable and staged a scene in which they would assume that she had been killed or taken. Then I glamored them with the story we had concocted together, and Charlaine agreed to live with me in our castle.

Every night, I would fly into the village to get her food, and naturally, she provided me with my own sustenance. She stayed up with me most of the night weaving her stories for our amusement, and then I persuaded her to write them down. She was such a brilliant storyteller. In those days it was extremely unusual for women to be published authors, and so we concocted a male pseudonym and life story and submitted Charlaine's stories to be published. I would fly into the cities to retrieve the periodicals to show her how well received her books were, and we would celebrate her secret success in our castle together.

Charlaine and I lived together for a short forty two years, but they were happy years for me. I wanted to turn her, naturally, but she asked that I not, and I respected her wishes. I also never bonded with her. She valued her human life and although she loved me, she was also repulsed by my nature and wanted no part of it for herself. She fell ill one night, and of course wouldn't take my blood. I wanted to fly her to see a doctor, but she refused, making light of her illness. When I went to ground before dawn, I was very worried. Then when I woke and found her dead in our bed, I wept for days on end. It had been so many centuries since I'd felt such a loss, I had forgotten how agonizing grieving for a loved one could be.

I returned to my monstrous ways after the loss of Charlaine, feeding and fucking and killing without remorse. I swore that I would never love another human again. And it was many many years before I did. It wasn't until I was cursed by a witch and rescued by a brave telepath on a cold night in January that I found love again. Had I not lost my memory, I know that I would not have allowed myself to fall for Sookie. I hate Hallow, but am actually grateful for her curse because it led to my love for Sookie and a joy that I have missed in my ridiculously long and tortured life.

Now I spend my nights before dawn watching Sookie sleep and leaving her silly and funny notes on her mirror. I know that I will suffer her death one day just as I suffered the death of Charlaine, but I see now that living a full and joyful life no matter how brief is worth all the pain of the loss. I will tell Sookie about Charlaine someday. I hope she isn't hurt by the fact that I have loved before, but I want her to know that I respected Charlaine's wishes and watched her die just as I am prepared to do for Sookie. Sookie doesn't realize it, but she knows Charlaine's work. One night I woke to find her asleep in the hammock holding one of Charlaine's books in her hand. I couldn't help but smile to myself as I thought of a night a long time ago in a castle in Ireland when Charlaine and I thought of her new name together: Bram Stoker.


	10. Chapter 10

Pam called Sookie tonight to tell her that Victor Madden is dead. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Stan Davis, the king of Texas, is now officially also the king of Louisiana. None of the sheriff's positions have changed hands. Clancy is still firmly in place in area five. I went online to check these facts, and they seem to be true. I was relieved, naturally, because I believe that Pam is safe as long as Clancy is her sheriff. And I know Stan Davis to be fair-minded. Stan also has his own telepath (Barry the bellboy), and so I am also relieved that Sookie's freedom will most likely remain intact. When Sookie hung up, she called Bill to get confirmation. Then later Quinn called her with the same news. She hung up and looked at me and said, "Ding, dong. The witch is dead." I thought that she had lost her mind until she explained the reference. And then I wholeheartedly agreed with her.

We spent most of the night discussing our options. I could resurface as a legal vampire again. I would sign documents leaving my assets in Pam's and Sookie's possession. I had no desire to own Fangtasia again, and Sookie never really felt comfortable in my Shreveport house anyway. Pam was living in it now, and she was welcome to stay there as far as I was concerned. As far as Sookie's property and money, we could just leave it all in her name, but she said she wanted to change her will so that Hunter would inherit some, but that the bulk of the estate would revert back to my name in the case of her death. That wasn't really an issue that concerned me. I could always make more money. And of course, Pam would share what I'd left her if I asked.

We considered what returning to Louisiana would mean for us. Sookie loved her family home and had many friends there as well as her brother. I had many contacts from years of doing business in Shreveport, and could pursue other business opportunities there comfortably. Of course Pam was there.

We could get married legally.

I could come out of the literary closet and announce that I was the author of my books.

We could travel together and see some of the world that Sookie has not seen in her very young life.

We lay in the hammock discussing all of our new future possibilities for hours, fingers intertwined, looking out to the ocean. Finally, I said, "Do you know what you want to do, lover?"

"Yes." I waited. "I want to walk on the beach."

"Me too."

It was cloudy and windy and we were far from the house when it started to rain. We gave each other the knowing horny grin that we often shared, and as the rain drops started to wet our hair and clothes, I began to kiss her mouth and lower her body into the shallow surf. I unbuttoned her blouse and peeled away her bra, tossing them both up onto the beach (so that I wouldn't have to retrieve them from the ocean later). I kissed and caressed her perfect breasts, my tongue gently licking the many tiny fangmarks that were now faded from sight from anyone's except a vampire's eyes but that held cherished memories for me. I lifted her skirt and pulled her panties off, tossing them up onto the beach as well. I found her wet and ready for me. I watched with still-new fascination as Sookie's hand freed me from my pants and the moonlight reflected off the diamonds on the hand that stroked me with familiar perfection. We locked eyes as I entered her, and then I bent in to kiss her beautiful lips as she whispered my name in ecstasy. The waves massaged our feet and legs, the rain gave us the curtain of privacy that we needed. I bit and tasted her left breast while I listened to her soft rhythmic moans. We made love in the filtered moonlight, repeating all the comfortable lovers' words that we each knew the other craved. We climaxed together after countless times and years of knowing just what the other needs, and I thought this is what I have lived a thousand years for. This is all I need.

We put Sookie's sandy clothes back on her, and walked back towards the house in the gentle rain hand in hand, both wearing a contented smile.

"Do you know what you want, lover?"

"Yes, I do. A hot shower and a warm bed."

"Oh look, lover, a piece of driftwood. Do you like that one?"

"I love it."

"Oh good. I just want you to be happy."

"I know. And I am."

XXX

A/N: Please enjoy the next story in my series, Pam's Take on Things. See my profile for the sequence after that. Enjoy!


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